


you're my girl, you're my girl

by oneworldaway



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Spoilers through Season 3, because I made it basically canon compliant, mentions of/background/past Michaela/Asher and Laurel/Wes, neither is explicitly depicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneworldaway/pseuds/oneworldaway
Summary: She and Laurel were just having a bit of fun. It didn't really mean anything, so what did it matter if it kept on happening?(Look, this is essentially Five Times Michaela Convinced Herself Kissing Laurel Didn't Mean Anything and One Time She Didn't. Apparently I'm still using that format. But like, it gets the job done.)





	you're my girl, you're my girl

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings in case anyone needs them: some make outs occur while both parties are drunk, and sex occurs when they're both upset about other things and one of them is still in a relationship with someone else (and, this being canon compliant through season 3, while one of them is pregnant). Not that any of this is particularly unusual for this canon, but just wanted to put that out there in case anyone wanted a heads up!
> 
> Title is from "The Girl Is Mine" by 99 Souls feat. Destiny's Child and Brandy, which I was listening to a lot around the time I wrote this. (Which was actually while season 3 was still airing, but I took my sweet time posting this for absolutely no good reason.)

Laurel asking her to dance was nothing new, but Michaela saying yes was a rare occurrence.

It had been a week or two since anything truly terrible had happened—a miracle by their current standards—and that day, they’d managed to win a case that most of them had all but given up on just the day before. They’d barely set foot in the club before there were drinks in all of their hands, and before too long Laurel and the boys were dancing up a storm. Michaela watched as Laurel coaxed Wes out onto the dance floor, both of them laughing over something she couldn’t hear, and she felt herself smiling just before she downed one of the shots Connor had ordered for all of them. What the hell? It had been a good day.

A single mother had been dangerously close to spending the rest of her life in prison. They’d tracked down a witness who could prove her alibi, but she couldn’t be convinced to testify—until Laurel had talked to her the day before. Whatever she’d said, it had worked, and the witness had shown up in court that day, stating that she and the defendant had been at a hotel together at the time of the defendant’s ex-husband’s murder. Security footage from the hotel confirmed her story.

Warm in the afterglow of their victory—and from the tequila—Michaela allowed Connor to pull her over to the dance floor, too. The music was so loud that she could barely hear herself think, but she welcomed the feeling. With the lives they led, it was nice to stop thinking for a while, sometimes.

As she moved to the beat, she felt all the anxiety, all the guilt, and all the doubt that always followed her these days melt away.

And then Laurel was next to her, and she could tell she felt the same way.

The dance floor was a mess of warm bodies and frantic motion, and the lights of the club lent an ethereal quality to the scene. Michaela didn’t notice at first that they were moving closer together, or maybe, for once, she didn’t care. Laurel had that glint in her eye that always appeared at times like this.

“Dance with me?” she asked, her voice strangely clear over the music.

“We’re already dancing,” Michaela pointed out, the distance between them already negligible, both of them swaying to the rhythm. Connor was dancing with Oliver, and Wes had made his way back over to the bar. It was just the two of them.

“Fair point,” said Laurel, inching almost imperceptably closer.

Michaela rolled her eyes, but more out of habit than anything. In truth, she was impressed by how Laurel had handled that witness. And after how hard they’d all worked on that case, Michaela just wanted to relax and enjoy herself. Laurel was fun to be around when she was like this, even if Michaela would never admit it.

She didn’t even notice the song changing, nor did she object when Laurel’s hands found their way to her waist. She wasn’t even drunk, so she surprised herself when she wrapped her own arms around the small of Laurel’s back, pulling her in so they were pressed up against each other. At that moment, it just felt like the thing to do.

And it still felt right when Laurel leaned in so close that Michaela could feel her breath ghosting over her face. So close that it only took the slightest movement for their lips to be touching, feather soft.

And then it wasn’t soft anymore. Not that Laurel wasn’t soft—the memory of Laurel’s softness would keep Michaela awake later, wondering at that—but the kiss had become something else, warm and deep and _hungry_. Even if Michaela wasn’t sure how it had started, she damn well wasn’t going to be the one to end it. Not when it felt this good.

But then Connor was there, cheering and whistling at them in a perfect imitation of a drunken straight boy, and Laurel was pulling back with a laugh. “Told you she was mine,” she shouted over the music, wiping at the corner of her mouth. The memory of that little gesture would keep Michaela awake later, too.

She rolled her eyes, again, but her heart just wasn’t in it this time. Michaela laughed along with the others, but she knew that kiss had been more than just a joke.

 

 

~

 

 

Truth or Dare just doesn’t feel as high stakes when you’re playing with the same people who helped you bury a body in the woods once. Maybe that was why they always played it, or maybe they just couldn’t think of any other way to fill the silence between casework and cram sessions.

“Truth,” said Connor.

“Okay,” said Michaela, glancing around their workspace in Annalise’s house from her spot on the couch, trying to think of the juiciest thing she could ask him. “Weirdest place you’ve hooked up?”

Connor paused to think about this. “An animal shelter, in front of all the cats. Told this guy from one of my classes who volunteered there that I was thinking of getting one. I really just wanted to get into his pants.”

“Charming,” said Michaela.

“What, like you’ve never told a white lie to get closer to someone?” asked Connor.

“Don’t need to. All I need’s my sparkling personality,” said Michaela with a wink.

“Uh huh.” Connor looked from Laurel to Wes, eventually settling on the latter. “Truth or dare?” he asked, more of a formality than anything; Wes never chose “truth.”

“Pass,” Wes replied, rising from his chair and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Aww, come on,” said Connor, but Wes was already halfway out of the room. “Fine. Laurel,” he tried, instead. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” picked Laurel, who sat leaning against the couch, a thick stack of case files piled up next to her on one side and a textbook open on the coffee table in front of her.

Connor smirked. “Alright,” he said, nodding towards Michaela. “I dare you two to make out again.”

Michaela inwardly scolded herself when Laurel looked back at her just in time to catch her taken aback expression. “You were supposed to be too drunk to remember that,” she told Connor. “ _I_ was supposed to be too drunk to remember that.” She really hadn’t been, but she _had_ done a pretty good job of forgetting about that—mostly.

“So it wasn’t good for you, too?” Laurel teased, the way she always did.

“Please,” Michaela scoffed.

Laurel turned away from her. “Connor, just pick something else.”

“No way. Wes already wimped out on us. A dare’s a dare.”

“And I took the dare. She didn’t,” Laurel pointed out. “I’ll do something else.”

“Wait,” said Michaela, before she’d even realized she was opening her mouth to speak. Laurel and Connor both stared at her in surprised, expectant silence. Michaela sighed. “Just, come on,” she floundered, waving a hand around as she angled herself towards Laurel. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Seriously?” asked Laurel, an eyebrow cocked in skepticism.

Michaela lowered herself to the floor next to Laurel. “What? Scared I’m gonna rock your world?”

A laughing smile danced across Laurel’s face at this momentary reversal of their usual roles. But it was Laurel who brought a hand up to cup Michaela’s face, and when Michaela didn’t flinch, or break their eye contact, it was Laurel who leaned in to close the space between them.

it was nothing like that night at the club, but it was just as nice in its own way. Laurel’s kiss was less demanding this time, more gentle, and Michaela could feel her holding back. It made a part of her want to chase her down, to push back harder and see what Laurel would do, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and let Laurel set their pace. It was easier this way, when she didn’t have to think about it too much. There was a reason why she’d stopped letting herself think about the last time.

Just before she could fully give herself over to how good it felt, Laurel pulled away, and when their eyes met again, something about Laurel’s expression calmed Michaela and made her nervous all at once.

She was only faintly aware of Wes, who’d rematerialized in the room after forgetting his jacket. He blinked at the scene in front of him, apparently at a loss for words.

Connor broke the silence, at last. “See what you miss when you bail on Truth or Dare?”

 

 

~

 

 

The first time with Asher just kind of happened. If the alcohol hadn’t been enough to screw with Michaela’s better judgement, the whole mess with Caleb sure would have been.

It became a habit the way anything does, almost totally at random. It was something to do, and at least it kept her from hooking up with any more serial killers.

But tonight, sitting alone in some undergrad’s dorm room in the middle of the crappy college party Asher had invited her to, Michaela was beginning to wonder if this was really preferable.

Before she could make up her mind to leave, she spotted a familiar face passing by in the hallway. “Laurel?” she called out to her.

Laurel backtracked to the open doorway of the room she’d just walked by. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, walking over to sit down next to Michaela on the flowered bedspread.

Michaela heaved a sigh. “Asher went to deal with some kind of puke-related emergency in another kid’s room. Half an hour ago.” She took a deep swig from the bottle of beer she’d been nursing, taking in the posters on the wall and the books on the desk. “I never went to parties like this when I was an undergrad. Didn’t expect to be starting now.”

“My advice? Don’t,” said Laurel. “You won’t be missing much, unless you’re really into being hit on by underage drunk dudes.”

Michaela frowned. “What are _you_ doing here, then?”

“Asher invited all of us, remember?” said Laurel. “Connor’s here somewhere too. I think he’s trying to hook up with one of the other RAs, or something.”

“And you?” asked Michaela.

Laurel shrugged. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

Michaela sipped at her beer again. “This is pathetic. We are way too young and hot to be moping in some teenager’s bedroom on a Friday night. There’s gotta be something else to do.” Shifting in her spot as she made to get up, Michaela hit something solid underneath the covers. Reaching under the sheets, she found a bottle of vodka that she held up to Laurel triumphantly, and Laurel seemed to approve.

“I’ll go find cups,” Laurel offered, but before she could get up, Michaela had twisted off the cap and taken a long sip straight from the bottle. Wiping her mouth off on the back of her hand afterwards, she could’ve sworn Laurel’s eyes glazed over for a second.

“Never mind,” said Laurel, reaching for the bottle herself.

 

 

 

 

An hour later, they were still in that dorm room, half the bottle had been drained, and Laurel’s hands were up Michaela’s shirt, travelling the expanse of her back.

Michaela hardly remembered how Laurel had wound up on top of her, or even how they’d started kissing at all, but she didn’t want to stop. Laurel’s weight pressing her into the bed felt good, almost as good as her mouth on hers, and Michaela felt one of her own hands snaking its way up into Laurel’s hair, tugging gently. Laurel made a sound in response that Michaela was eager to hear again, and she was just about to give it another try when she realized someone was talking to them.

“Hey, have either of you seen Cheryl?” yelled a girl standing in the doorway.

“Who?” Michaela asked, pushing Laurel off of her so she could sit up.

“The girl whose bed you’re making out on?”

“No idea,” said Michaela, flopping back onto the pillows. Sitting up made her feel dizzy. Or maybe it was Laurel’s hands on her, still. All she knew was she felt better horizontal, even with Laurel’s hair tickling her cheek as she lay beside her.

Laurel began to laugh, and a moment or two later, Michaela joined in, not even sure what was supposed to be so funny, but amused all the same.

All things considered, it wasn’t the _worst_ party Michaela had ever been to.

 

 

~

 

 

By the time Laurel was throwing her arms around her and kissing her in front of everyone in the library, it felt so natural that Michaela didn’t even hesitate to kiss her back, and no one else felt the need to comment on it after the fact. 

As Michaela started in on her third plastic cup of champagne, she caught Laurel’s eye from across the room and grinned at her. She wasn’t worried about Wes and Laurel, and she certainly wasn’t worried about Asher. After all, she and Laurel were just having a bit of fun. It didn’t really mean anything, so what did it matter who else they were with, and what did it matter if it kept on happening?

 

 

~

 

 

If Michaela had thought she was used to being surrounded by death and darkness by now, the fire proved just how wrong she had really been.

Even after everything they’d all seen and done, the thought Wes was gone was just too much to process. No matter what had happened to them before, at least they’d all had each other. And she’d just seen him, just spoken to him earlier that day. It didn’t make any kind of sense.

And then there was Laurel, lying in that hospital bed, looking so fragile. The thought of someone doing that to her made Michaela want to scream. But Laurel didn’t need her rage, right now. Impossible as it felt, Michaela needed to be strong.

The only thing that seemed to calm the storm inside of her was the sound of Laurel’s steady breathing once she’d finally fallen asleep. The chair Michaela had tried to curl up on was less than comfortable, but with Laurel safe and close by, she slept better than she had the night before in her bed.

In the morning, she woke up to the sound of Laurel groaning softly, reaching for the button for her pain medication. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Michaela rose from her chair and walked over to Laurel’s beside, pressing the button for her.

Laurel sighed deeply as relief washed over her. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Tenderly, Michaela brushed a lock of hair back from Laurel’s face. The way Laurel was looking up at her made her ache in a way she couldn’t comprehend. The only thing she could think to do was to lean down and place a gentle kiss on her forehead, and to hope it conveyed everything she didn’t know how to say.

When she pulled back, Laurel was almost smiling.

 

 

~

 

 

Michaela knew it was _such_ a cliché, but coming so close to losing Laurel for good had made her realize that she couldn’t deny what was there anymore. For months she’d tried not to think about the feel of Laurel’s lips against hers, or Laurel’s hands on her back, her hips, her face. She’d told herself over and over that it was just something that friends did sometimes—a kind of college experimentation she hadn’t experienced when she was younger, too wrapped up in her studies and her then-fiancé. She’d tried to distract herself with Asher, but as soon as she’d roll over to go to sleep, her thoughts would drift back to Laurel. One night, she’d dreamed about staying with Laurel in the hospital while she had the baby. When she’d woken up, all she’d wanted to do was call her.

And then there were the nights she’d spent at Laurel’s. The first time had been because Laurel had looked so sad, and in truth, Michaela hadn’t felt ready to leave her, yet. But there wasn’t really a good reason when she stayed again a few nights later, this time wearing one of Laurel’s t-shirts and a pair of her pajama pants. Before too long, Michaela was spending just as many nights in Laurel’s bed as she was in her own—and she hadn’t seen Asher’s dorm room in weeks.

One night, after changing Laurel’s bandages, she’d found her hands lingering just a little too long at Laurel’s side. Laurel had locked eyes with her, and something had shifted in the air between them. Before she could put a name to it, Laurel had moved in so close to her that there was no going back. They’d surged together, kissing like it was a battle, each of them fighting to prove something they couldn’t put into words. Michaela had known it was a bad idea, but Laurel had felt so soft, so warm, so _alive_ , that she couldn’t resist. She’d needed Laurel to know just how loved she truly was. She’d needed to show her.

It had been frantic, desperate—so rushed that anyone else might have called it unromantic, but Michaela knew it had been more than that. Something had changed between them, that night, and they were going to have to deal with the consequences.

The talk she’d had with Asher hadn’t been pretty, but it had needed to be done. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what had happened with Laurel, but a part of her thought maybe it was better that way. Even so, she had to admit that this thing with Asher had run its course. He didn’t deserve to be stuck in a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere, and if she was honest with herself, neither did she.

But it wasn’t like she was going to fling herself into Laurel’s arms now and tell her she loved her. They were both still reeling from what had happened to Wes, and even if the whole thing between Wes and Laurel had seemed to come out of nowhere, Michaela respected the fact that it had happened. She knew they probably shouldn’t have slept together while Laurel was still recovering from all that, but it had kind of just happened. 

What Michaela wasn’t going to do was pressure her. They didn’t even have to talk about it if Laurel didn’t want to. No matter what happened between them, Michaela wasn’t going to break her promise to Laurel. She’d be there for her as long as she needed her.

So when Laurel texted after midnight about how sick she felt, Michaela didn’t hesitate to come to her aid. Twenty minutes later she was at Laurel’s door, bearing ginger ale and saltines.

“You’re a life saver,” said Laurel, accepting Michaela’s offerings and flopping back down onto her couch, where Michaela soon joined her.

They sat in silence for some time, watching some sitcom rerun on TV. “Feel any better?” Michaela asked eventually, once Laurel had been sipping at her ginger ale for a while.

“Honestly? Not really,” Laurel admitted. “But it’s kind of sucky being alone right now.” The way she smiled at her then made Michaela feel like somehow, this was all going to be okay. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Anytime,” said Michaela, meaning it. “Seriously, if you need me at three in the morning, I’m only a phone call away.”

“Even if I’m puking my guts out and I haven’t brushed my hair in three days?”

“Even then,” Michaela laughed.

Still smiling, Laurel held her gaze. “I kind of want to kiss you right now.”

And Michaela felt the tension that had been coiling up inside of her ever since that last night they’d spent together finally begin to melt away. “What are you waiting for, then?”

It was a kiss that promised more to come. Michaela knew, then, that whatever came at them next, they’d be able to face it together.


End file.
